


Joint Command

by countessofbiscuit



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward First Times, Clonecest, Dick Interrupted, Established Cody/Rex, Established Rex/Ahsoka, Explicit Sexual Content, Female Knotting (?), Fraternization, Milwank, Multi, Relationship Negotiation, Score One for the 501st, Teamwork, Unexpected threesome, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:40:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23548546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countessofbiscuit/pseuds/countessofbiscuit
Summary: Cody is eight inches deep in a post-match Rex when Commander Tano opens the door and nearly sends his pleasantly pedestrian afternoon up in smoke. But if a Marshal Commander knows anything, it’s how to adapt, improvise, and overcome.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/CT-7567 | Rex, CC-2224 | Cody/CT-7567 | Rex/Ahsoka Tano, CT-7567 | Rex/Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 17
Kudos: 297
Collections: May the 4th Be With You Star Wars Fanworks Exchange 2020





	Joint Command

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WritingCyan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingCyan/gifts).



> For Cyan, who could use a laugh and thoughts of Cody in happier times, with thanks to tiend for the beta.

“What do I get if I sub in and win the next one?” Cody taunted, thrusting into Rex to the give-and-take of a cheap, dirtside rack. 

“An ARC.” 

“Nah, got one better under my thighs right now.” Cody scored a hand across Rex’s skull, admiring the blond regrowth of garrison life. Ten battalions waiting, boots at the ready, along a bombardment line that hadn’t moved in three weeks. Thank Fett this was Cestus, with its purpose-built base, temperate weather, and easy terrain; even after the obligatory four-hour maneouvers in full kit with all the trimmings, there was still some stomach for limmie. And lazy fucks. “Maybe I’ll ask you to just keep the skirt on, old boy.” 

“Or maybe you’ll just lose again and you’ll have to wear it.”

Cody chuckled. “I don’t have the hips for—” 

Rex grabbed Cody’s left forearm where it was braced upon the coarse mattress. “Hold up,” he said, going still under Cody’s last downswing. 

“What?”

“Do you hear—”

Cody hadn’t heard anything—was frankly amazed Rex could, over the squeaky bedframe—but even he had to admit that his vaunted powers of observation failed him just then, as the rack still quivered from their fuck.

That, or reality completely warped. 

The door to Rex's bunkroom vanished, and in its place stood Commander Tano, dressless and doing a little dance in her underclothes. 

“And thaaaaaaat’s another one in the bag for the five-oh— _oh, shfat!!_ ”

In the split second it took for Cody to register _Jedi_ , he’d rationalized that her manifestation in this room was perfectly natural—not only because she was stuck on Rex like glue, but because things like normalcy and SOPs and the laws of physics were in the habit of getting out of her way. She might as well be standing there as any other place. 

Tano had frozen, blue eyes the size of droid poppers, as she took in the scene on the bed. Cody could just picture it— _Fraternization: Still Life,_ clones on canvas, 978 PRR. 

Then she bolted from the room. 

“Ahsoka!” Rex yelled, rearing up so fast he almost bloodied Cody’s nose. He dove off the mattress and scrambled after his CO, one leg inside his limmie shorts and his ass still bared to the world as he rounded the door and disappeared from view. 

And Cody was left hanging, his mind spinning on a line— _she didn’t know?_ —while he braced for the _thunk_ of the external doors that would leave him truly jilted in this plasteel boudoir. 

It never came. Hushed voices slowly softened the silence, and he felt oddly, stupidly relieved. 

Rex wouldn’t leave, not now. But he wouldn’t come back the same. 

They’d talk, Tano would scram, and Rex would drag himself back into the room, dejected and distracted, probably feeling like he’d let both sides down, and nobody would get off and he’d be fucking miserable to be around. Either he’d play his heart out tomorrow and the 212th would look even worse; or he’d bring nothing but his boots and the morale of both sides would crumble. The Seppies would probably lob some missiles their way too, gift-wrapped by Dooku, who’d read the Force forecast that day and saw a big black cloud labelled _Captain Rex’s Honorable Shame._

The blue side would probably still win, Cody reflected, and his cock twitched a little. Rex was _that_ good. 

Damn it, this was _his_ hookup. That was _his_ mutie brother. And Cody might be implicated in this awkwardness with them, but they were also still stuck in this prefab with him. 

And he was still hard. 

Cody eased off the rack, grabbed his briefs, and padded lightly to the doorway. 

It was Tano’s voice that hardened into clarity first. 

“—gonna tell me?”

“Tell you? Tell you _what?_ What was there to tell? You’ve seen the showers.”

Oh, Rex. _Oh lil’ Rex’ika, old buddy, old pal._ He still didn’t get birthers, did he? It was one thing to know your identical soldiers fucked each other; it was quite another to catch your favorite balls-deep in the act. 

Cody continued to eavesdrop, absently stepping into his briefs. It wasn’t difficult; their conversation was all scratchy shrillness that tore through a whisper. 

“You’re right. I wasn’t born yesterday, Rex. But that’s not Fives or Coric or Captain magic-hair-what's-his-face from Sonar! That’s Marshal-kriffing-Commander Cody!” 

On the other side of the plasteel, stuffing his heavy dick below his waistband, Marshal-kriffing-Commander Cody couldn’t help smirking. 

“Yeah, and?”

“Isn’t he, like, patented by the War Office?”

“DNA spliced with strategic algorithms, more droid than wet—is that it?” 

“ _No!_ Ugh, you know what I mean!! He’s … infallible. And so formal. And he’s like Master Kenobi’s right arm.” Tano made a disturbed sound, like she was trying to scrub a spider web off her montrals.

“Ahsoka. I am in _your_ Master’s pockets, but you don’t have a problem sticking your hands down mine—not that that’s a problem, by the way.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same. He’s like my brother. And you’re like his brother.” 

“I … I can’t tell if you’ve spent way too much time around clones or if you really just don’t get it at all.”

“Gah! My brain hurts. This is so embarrassing. I already had enough trouble looking him in the eye. Now he’s going to know that I know…”

“Can you look at me?”

“I think—I … I’m so stupid.”

“No you’re not. I’m sorry. Shab, I’m sorry, I hate seeing you upset. This is my fault.”

“Stars, Rex, _don’t._ Please, don’t. I don’t want to be in the way. This was all a mistake.”

This was all a maudlin waste of time, that’s what it was—now that it was clear Rex wasn’t having to talk her down out of blabbing and getting them strung up faster than you could say _chain of command._

He was just having to reassure her that she still mattered. 

Hearing a Jedi express self-doubt because of him—even if it was mostly guff about Cody's specs—fell just on the funny side of awkward. Cody had figured he and the pining Padawan were roughly equals, as far as Rex was concerned: his marshal rank to her Force-blessed brevetship. Rex was tangled up with Tano, a fresh and beautiful storm of alien puberty blown in by chance; but he was in deep with Cody, as solid and fundamental as the stilts that held their first home safe above the tides. It wasn’t a competition and there wasn’t anything to get jealous about—except maybe how many more opportunities she got to overlook Article 134. 

Whatever Tano believed, Cody had the organic capacity of imagination—her leggings on the floor, her sparring bra rolled up, Rex mouthing a hard, dark nipple into the pillow of her breast—and he decided quickly on a course of action. 

He also had the happy facility of cutting straight through banthashit. 

Out into the corridor he stepped. “You two just gonna leave me holding my cock?” 

Rex and Tano jumped. They dropped each other’s hands with more guilt than two troopers caught with their plates down mid-watch. On reflection, maybe Tano’s face was just stuck like that—wide-eyed and a little flummoxed by his flesh-and-blood presence. Like a spooked hawkbat. Rex had at least gotten his shorts up, though not high enough to hide the downward cut of his hips or his trail of golden curls. 

Tano canted towards the door, her attention stuck somewhere between Rex’s face and Cody’s tented crotch. “I’ll just … ”

“Commander,” Cody snapped, before she could dart off again. _“Ahsoka.”_ He wasn’t sure he’d ever called her that. “If you were coming to congratulate the victorious captain here … why can’t we carry on together?” 

Tano still stood dumb, only Rex had adopted the attitude, too. 

The suggestion went down like a lead balloon. 

It occurred to Cody that, Tano being a birther and subject to different conventions, Rex might not want to share. 

Rex hadn’t broached the subject yet, even when Cody could see fresh bite marks on his shoulders or when he'd caught a whiff of strange detergent on his briefs. Cody and Tano had been ships passing in the umbra, ever since he’d given Rex his blessing, such as it was. 

_Commander Tano_ had been elevated to _the Commander,_ and then chummily demoted altogether as _Ahsoka._ Watching them moon after each other had been funny; Cody had found much to entertain in Rex navigating a non-clone relationship, trying to convince one of the monks to be less monk-ish. And after the third or fifth time Rex made some unsubtle remark like “Ahsoka’s really hit her stride” when Cody had just sucked him dry, there was nothing for it but to reassure his brother that his vanity wouldn’t suffer if he wanted some Tog tail, but it might not survive if Rex didn’t stop yammering on about her. 

Now the tooka had everyone’s tongues. 

The silence bloated. 

Maybe they just didn’t think Cody was serious. Rex was used to him talking smack, and Tano apparently didn’t think he was capable of humor, let alone stiffies. 

“If you’re going to leave,” he tried again, “at least exit smiling. Or come back here and let’s all have something to really smile about.”

It was the smallest of gestures, just enough for Cody to breathe, surprised by his own nerves, but Rex made the first move. He stared at Tano and shifted his weight in Cody’s direction. He paused, though, and having wordlessly cast his vote, waited for Tano to decide the question. 

Tano rocked on her heels. She crossed her legs in an equivocal manner, flashing the vee between her thighs rather unfairly in a moment like this. If pressed, Cody would’ve said he leant towards brothers, for the simple reason that they were familiar, unfailingly competent, and mentally available for the ten minutes each cycle that Cody had for himself. Not that he ever got to touch; being at the top of the chain was lonely like that. Rex—the mutie standard who’d gotten the jump on him in advanced recon, and then defied the sergeants and exercise objective to save his shattered face—was the exception that slipped out before the rule came down. 

Cody was a clone’s clone. But he could always bend to chance. And it was easy enough to triangulate the pleasure to be had from a wet besh and two cocks.

With his arm going tingly against the doorjamb, he had just about settled on the odds of various people walking into this block and getting an eyeful of the senior leadership negotiating a tryst before Tano ever made up her mystic mind—Scooter was at 3/1 as Rex’s staff sergeant and Tano’s minder; all the gossipy lieutenants were at 8/1; Wooley was at 5/1 because he was Cody’s minder; and even the absent Generals were currently at 50/1 each, odds increasing every moment their little Force beacon prevaricated about whether or not she could double-down on misconduct for one afternoon—when Tano finally spoke. 

“I mean … I’m game if Rex is—”

“I am,” Rex declared. He seized her hand, as if to grab any lingering indecision too and smother it with his big fingers. 

Uncertainty didn’t look good on Tano. Cody needed to goad her, challenge her to rise to the occasion. He wouldn’t mock her, not Rex’s girl, but he would provoke her. Just a little.

“Just _game_ is a benchwarmer’s attitude, Tano,” he smirked, an authoritative finger in the air. “Do you really want in? ‘Cause I can fuck him into the floor with or without you.”

“But _with you_ will be more fun,” Rex cut in, ever the diplomat, encouraging her, urging her gently forward towards the big, fuck-off Marshal Commander, and eyeing Cody not to fuck this up for him.

Cody nodded theatrically. “Heaps more. Buckets more.” He dropped an arm around Tano’s shoulders as the three of them squeezed into the small room, speaking low against her montral. “Buckets of _blue._ ”

She turned to him with a playful sneer. “So the golden boy wants a paintjob?”

Cody couldn’t help but smile. _That’s the spirit._ There was every chance she’d never answer to him again, and he spared a full thought—impressive, considering how much blood was in his cock—for what the Generals might say to him for encouraging a Padawan to fool around. _Their_ Padawan. 

Well, it wasn’t the most fucked up thing he’d done. And he was bored to the back teeth. The nervy sameness of Cestus could grate even the most overworked commander. 

“Thought I was the golden boy,” mused Rex. 

Tano’s façade crumbled at once; she’d be pitiable at sabacc, with or without the Force. “Always,” she cooed, snaking an arm around Rex’s waist. 

The Generals already had a problem on their hands, beyond just a little dipping of sticks in the company oil. 

Their Padawan was _attached_ to Rex. 

Cody couldn’t say he blamed her. 

“That’s great. Now that we’re all aligned—” Cody smacked the door shut with his free hand, grabbed the back of Rex’s skull, and yanked him into a kiss, sandwiching Tano face-first into his brother’s chest. Rex’s shoulders thumped against the locker of the dearly departed Captain Yoss—he wasn’t dead, just out commanding the perimeter patrol, the happy result of one of Cody’s many administrative stratagems. 

Cody pressed into Rex firmly and worked his mouth. He slid a hand down the back of Rex’s shorts, his reach slightly impaired by the mass of Tano, whom he ignored. He was waiting for her to step up—or step out. It was wild feeling her against his bare stomach: someone with different skin, with knobbly joints and alien lumps. Cody wondered who was having the bigger mental trip—finding yourself in a double-act, or rubbing up against someone who didn’t look and feel like you for once. 

Tano went down, in the end. She shimmied from their embrace to settle between their legs, still dirty, sweaty and turf-stained. 

Cody caught Rex’s jagged groan in his mouth, just as his own erection made hard contact against Tano’s fatty rear lek. He rocked into her, very gently, unsure how sensitive her cranial apparatus was, and pictured how her mouth would be taking Rex with every slow roll. 

She was having the rancor’s share of the fun. And if Cody didn’t level with her now, jerk any awkwardness out at the root, Rex might be the only one comfortable enough to get off. Not that he hadn’t earned it. 

Cody trailed his lips down Rex’s torso, biting his nipple for good measure, and knelt to Tano’s left. He let his palm fall softly onto her head, thrilled to the core at the string of desire joining his hand, her mouth, and Rex’s cock. 

Admirable though her effort was, all hollow-cheeked, locked-lipped tugs, Rex was a lot to take in. Happily that left room for Cody. If their lips met, well, why not—here, at Rex’s feet, where there was common, somewhat selfless purpose. And it might not be _that_ weird. 

He couldn’t yet map this impression of deviance onto any typical birther reference points. Cody hadn’t forgotten what she’d said about regarding him as an extension of Kenobi; well, so was she, in a filial kind of way. That weirdness had to cancel itself out, somehow. No, it was more that she was too mystically slippery for any table of organization. For all her subordinated rank, she belonged to a privileged caste. She was supposed to be so entirely above … _this._ And so entirely above him and Rex, in the galaxy’s estimation: she was a gift, they were expensive line items. Tano obeyed his orders because Rex did, and she’d always followed his lead; but if she ever got it into her magic head to give _him_ an order, no one would take Cody’s side if he refused, especially if it all went to hells. 

No one except maybe Rex, who had a better idea of fair play than most, even when his own neck was on the line. _Especially_ then. 

And he thought Tano was fair game. 

Cody relaxed his shoulders and licked at Rex’s exposed shaft, already slick with Tano's spit and smelling many kinds of gamey. Their eyes met. Then their cheeks. Then their tongues. Hers felt very human—what he could sense of it around the bulk of Rex anyway. Tano taunted him to the tip, where Rex was still dribbling salty excitement. Cody tasted it in the same stroke that caught one of Tano’s fangs. 

Yeah, this was the best idea Cody’d had since he’d deliberately wound Rex up in their first advanced-recon AAR. It had earned them both a 72-hour duty shift in the ARC wing, where there was nothing to do but keep the log, wind each other up some more, dare each other to stealth wanks, and, eventually, swap hands. 

Fuck only knew what was going through Rex’s head, as he got the most sloppy, uncoordinated suckjob of his life. No rhythm whatsoever to set his progress by. It probably kept him from blowing. If he was anything like Cody, he’d be watching intently, committing this to memory for the field, when Corporal Clint had just wiped your helmet data, taking with it the wobbly holos of your favorite tail, and you had nothing left but stale memories and a decaying will to live. Cody didn’t sleep rough much anymore, but he knew the feeling well. 

Somehow, his and Tano’s thighs had come to touching. It took everything within Cody not to twist his body so he could frot against her bony hip. 

He wanted to last the duration of this great idea. He wanted to come so hard, the recoil would knock him back to last week, when the Generals had departed for one of their aggressive spiritual retreats and left him and Tano in station and garrison command. He wanted to hear General Kenobi say "I trust you can make your own fun without us, Cody," and savor the anticipation of dramatic irony this time. 

Cody stroked the length of Tano’s headtail. Then lower still, his hand sliding over her small ass and into the warm cleft between her legs. Time to make some more fun. He rubbed the moist fabric with two fingers and hoped his disquieting feeling of inexperience wasn’t pulsing against her mind. _Marshal Commander Cody has a lot of fucking qualifications, but your gear isn’t one._

Cody mouthed Rex idly now, suckling the skin at his root, and circled his fingertips in Tano's heat. Rex's fingers were tangled in his hair as he held his brother where it felt best. 

A low rumbling grew to Cody’s right. It sounded like Tano was … growling? Then Cody's face flushed hot to think she was growling at _him._ Rex’s skin testified that she liked it rough; he hadn’t said that she was completely feral. 

He froze and searched her eyes. They spoke differently: her gaze was vacant and her eyelids fluttered heavily. She rocked into his motionless hand. 

Tano was purring. 

“Gonna shoot—” Rex groaned. 

And really, what clone wouldn’t, when his lover could deploy sound effects like the distant hum of Rothana Heavy Engineering. 

Rex panted out a pile of phonemes, like he wanted to say both their names at once. Cody had a mind to let Tano do the honors, as their special guest. But she pulled off Rex at the last second, fisted his shaft, and creamed Cody’s face as Rex came in thick pulses. 

When he judged it safe to blink his eyes open, Cody found Tano wearing a sharp, self-satisfied smile. Rex had collapsed against the locker. He slid onto the floor and laughed hoarsely at the sight. 

“So that how it’s gonna be?” Cody huffed. He bent forward and charged Tano’s midsection, hoisting her over his shoulder like an unruly sandbag and standing up in one motion. She squawked and clawed at his back. Her indignance was peppered with belly laughs that shook against his neck. 

She bounced when he dumped her onto the bunk, her lithe body hardly making a dent in the unforgiving mattress. 

“Were you going to help me with this?” he asked, looming over where she lay, her heels tucked into her ass and biting her lip against giggles. Rex’s come was going tacky. Some had dribbled onto Cody's chest. 

By way of an answer, Tano very generously floated Rex’s towel from its hook and let it flap into his face. Cody spit on it and scrubbed himself as best he could. He kneeled onto the rack and hovered above her. 

“Sorry,” she chirped.

“No, you’re not.”

“Maybe not. Isn’t that how you guys show affection or something?”

Rex, still crumpled on the floor, buried his head in his arms. Cody smirked. Someone had been more observant in the showers than he thought. The Torrent gouge must be rich, but they never let on. 

“Some of us are good little cadets and prefer to eat our food, not play with it.” He tucked his fingers into the band of her leggings. “So. May I?”

Tano nodded, open-mouthed. Her stripes had taken on a darker shade and Cody wondered if he was seeing a Tog blush. He rolled her grey leggings down, taking his time to gently tug them off one leg, then the other. And she was _all_ leg. His own groin flushed at the weight of her supple calves in his palm. 

Tano curled forward and unfastened her sparring bra. She shoved it from her arms, and Cody was left staring at maybe the third or fourth naked girl he’d ever seen in the flesh. And this one was certainly the closest. 

He’d received a lapdance once, courtesy of a chagrian wearing lace like shredded cargo net. He hadn’t enjoyed it because the lady had someone’s tallies around her neck, and it got so under Cody’s skin that he'd sat there flaccid and unable to see the cleavage for the massive security breach. 

Tano had no cleavage to speak of. Just a shallow valley between two soft mounds peaked with dark nipples, the same color as her lips. She was, objectively speaking, beautiful: all sun-baked life and eye-catching contrasts.

She’d demurely clenched her knees when he’d pulled the leggings from her feet. Equally primly, Cody spread them again with his forefingers. He glanced at his brother, slouched against the locker, his chest puffing softly; Rex mirrored the action, splaying his own legs to tug himself deliberately—as if to say, _I’m back in the game and one-hundred-percent into this._

Cody flopped onto his forearms with his hands on Tano’s thighs and brought his face to her crotch. He stared at the dark, flared folds that glistened with her interest. “Well, it’s not _very_ blue—”

Tano smacked him. “You’ve not excited me enough yet, you cocky kama-killer.”

Cody grinned and gave her one broad lick, from her orange tush all the way to the white diamond of skin under her navel. She gasped. So he did it thrice more, each lick slower than the first, followed by an exploratory finger. It slipped in where he wasn’t expecting. The skin just inside her folds was ringed with a rubbery band, and it sucked against each one of his joints. 

_Oh._

Oh, that would feel incredible. 

Cody’s erection twitched as he swished the taste of her around his mouth. His hand flinched for his cock. 

No. Not yet. 

He pulled his finger out and was rewarded by a gelatinous smear of blue. “Can you take our good captain over there?” he asked, licking it off. It tasted of nothing in particular; maybe a little acrid, like if a powerpack could sweat. 

“Yeah. Not sure about this bed though." Tano creaked out a tune with a few gentle rocks of her shoulders. 

“It’ll bitch about it,” said Cody. “But this planet gets shaken off its axis by horny privates every new rotation, and I haven’t heard of one breaking yet.” 

“You also wouldn’t know a requisition form if it punched you in your senior command stones,” joshed Rex, who’d shucked his shorts in the three strides it took him to reach the bed. He’d rebounded handsomely, his cock fat and animated. “But I know a guy who knows a guy, so I’m not worried about writing off a rack.” 

Cody fell back to make room for his brother on the cot. He was almost left in the dust when Rex’s hips lunged for Tano. “Hold your banthas,” Cody said, circling an arm around his waist. “Leave a brother on the starting line? That’s unpatriotic.” 

“Then hurry up, you chakaar.”

“Never said you couldn't keep your girl warmed up.” Cody twisted out of his briefs. He swore he caught Tano trying to get a look-see under Rex’s arm—until Rex’s tongue hijacked her brain.

He fished out the precious bottle of honest-to-gods lube from under the bed—not bacta, not skin-safe polish, not jelly they begged from tightfisted but sweet-toothed medics—but the real deal. Rex had traded a set of narglatch teeth for it at the orbital waystation before they came dirtside. The aqualish proprietor was the sort of barmy spacer who’d spent too long gulping recycled air and had lost all sense of the passage of time; she was kept liquid by naval birther traffic and was happy to barter with the odd clone officer for chewstims, booze, dirty holozines, and other small comforts. 

Cody dolloped some on his cock, handling himself gingerly. With slicked fingers, he opened Rex up for a second time that afternoon, leaking a little at the beautiful line from his brother's tailbone to his spine to his bobbing blond head. He gave Rex a fireteam tap on the shoulder. Rex scooted forward, Cody nestled his cockhead into his brother’s shebs, and the two of them swept downward to meet the spread of Tano's legs. 

Cody pushed into Rex’s hole, the angle different with Rex planking above Tano instead of prone on the bed. A good different. 

Rex promptly buried his face into the soft vale between Tano’s neck and lek, muffling his breathy moans. Which left Cody and Tano appraising each other. Their eyes met a couple of times, and avoiding it only made things more awkward—somehow more awkward than when they were swapping spit over Rex’s dick. Cody liked her, sure, but he could admit he’d never imagined fucking her sans Rex, and that was exactly what this felt like. Rex was present, but also very much not. Just a blissed-out hunk sandwiched between them. 

Tano seemed to agree, perhaps able to sense this arrangement curdling, because she nudged Rex’s doped skull off her shoulder and started sucking his face like a tenacious mynock.

Cody relaxed into the sensation he'd been chasing earlier, when it'd just been him and Rex—and into the bedrock camaraderie that freed him to say whatever the fuck he wanted to, for a change. "This doing it for you, ol' boy?" he rumbled. "Champ like you deserves the best cock and cunt the Republic can muster. She taking every inch of you like you take me?"

Happy with the staccato of grunts that answered him, Cody buried himself fully into the slick grip of Rex’s ass. _Fuck,_ it felt better than good. He rolled with his brother, matching his pace, letting Rex savor the spectrum of sensation from fullness to tightness. 

Tano’s calves hung wide in the air. Cody grabbed them to jerk her closer. It flattened the space between their slick bodies to nil, smothering Rex deeper into her as Cody upped the tempo. Tano could probably take it now. "I'm gonna fuck your load straight into your girl, Rex. Is she a screamer? Or is she too stuffed to make a sound?"

With a stringy groan, Rex shuddered and clenched around Cody’s cock; Tano tried to pierce a shrill whine into Rex’s shoulder with a fanged bite. Cody almost flattered himself that his commentary did the trick, but she could probably anticipate Rex's orgasm, between her unseen powers and her wicked sense of smell. Handy that.

The only comparable trick Cody had in the bag was to call to mind the aqueous face of Hina Me, burned into his brain from stars knew how many physicals, when she’d marvelled at his perfect Fett phenotype, only to later peer at his scar with disgust. It was a double-edged blade: at once bloody useful and fucking haunting. But it always, _always_ stopped him from blowing his wad when he needed it to.

Rex collapsed limply onto Tano. Cody slipped free, hard and still pointing true north. He slumped back onto his heels. His companions didn’t so much as stir. 

“Shall I leave you two alone?” he teased after a long minute. 

Rex rose languidly to his elbows and looked over his shoulder. “I uh … I can’t pull out.”

“This happens,” Tano added. 

Oh, _wow._ That was … different. That shed a whole new light on the ring of rubbery muscle he’d felt around his finger. If it could suction a soft Rex, what would a stiff Cody feel? He stepped off the bed to appraise the curious couple. “So I take it two at a time would be—”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Rex said. 

Cody tossed his hands up. “Easy, easy, it’s out the airlock. Forget it. But could you ... d'you want to go another round?” he asked Tano, who was twining her fingers through Rex’s armpit hair rather absently. 

“Uhh, once I let go of Rex, yeah.”

Cody nodded. “I’ve been a bit of a one-trick pony, but since you two are … stuck, I’ll make myself fresh and we’ll RV in five?”

“Ten,” they suggested in unison. 

“Fuck me.” 

Cody had to soap himself with great delicacy in the showers across the hall, lest the thought of Tano’s flexing besh ruin all his— _their_ hard work. He went easy on Yoss’s stored-up water ration too, just enough to clean himself southerly and remove the last of Rex's dried load; Yoss would be even more down in the mouth to come back after a 72-hour patrol and find himself stuck with sonics. 

A couple 501st lieutenants ambled in and fell silent at the scarred face under the showerhead. No doubt wondering what had brought him here—not just dirtside when his command was orbital, but in a junior officers’ showers, too. Cody let them look and wonder what— _who_ —had him so excited. They’d never guess. Cody got a rare, childish thrill at the secret. He had to keep a lot of them, but few that were just his to keep—not the Third Army’s, not the General’s, not the Republic’s. Just his. 

It was hard to kill time on someone else’s water ration, and without the dry excuse of rubbing one out. So he towelled off, slipped briefly back into his briefs, and acknowledged the lieutenants’ uncomfortable salute before scooting back across the corridor. 

He found Rex and Tano still embracing. Rex rested with his back against the wall, and Tano sat scrunched in his lap, head stuffed into his shoulder as he stroked her headtail. Maybe that helped. 

Cody had to buffet away an unexpected pang of jealousy. 

She had so much more room to wiggle into Rex’s delimited existence; he and Rex hardly ever had time to warmup, let alone caress the stress away. Rex and Tano may have been quite literally stuck to each other in that moment, but their serenity looked so natural, so routine. They were no strangers to this sort of quiet intimacy. 

Cody begged nothing more of life than a week to sleep in a bed made for two, with Rex sprawled out, hugging his pillow and part of Cody’s too, and eat caramelized roba-strips in a room with no viewscreens, holotables, or comms. Just the opportunity to see how such peacetime quietude really sat with him, with the right company. And if he went batshit without a kinetic purpose, well … then maybe he’d lobby the right senators about his and Fox’s pet project: a tough-love self-defence instruction program for all the smug attachés and pimply assistants who'd ever sniffed at being chewed out by a clone for failure to maintain security protocol. Making birthers eat the mat and getting paid for the privilege? A clone could dream. 

He didn’t really want to imagine Rex’s post-war fantasy, just then. _She_ looked like a bed-hog, all arm and leg, but maybe there’d be room… 

“Good news, Codes,” Rex chimed when the door slid home, “I can feel my dick again. Means we’re almost out of the woods.” 

Tano hadn’t lifted her head, like she was still a bit embarrassed at being caught out with a body that wasn’t made with human genitalia in mind.

The thought chastened Cody a little as he kicked off his briefs; he was almost ashamed by his own eagerness. “Happy days,” he said, throwing himself back on the mattress next to Rex. He nearly touched Tano’s knee, considered that might be taken as a prompt, and let his arms fall limply into his crotch.

He looked at Rex, a silent question in his brow. 

_Meditating,_ Rex mouthed. 

Cody felt a little uncomfortable by that realization. It was one thing to maintain a liaison with the Force, and Cody was all in favor of that; it was something else to have your dick all up in it. 

“I can hear your unease, Cody,” Tano mumbled from Rex’s neck. “It’s like flapping aluminum.” 

“Sorry?”

Tano relaxed her hold on Rex, drooping back to finding Cody’s face. “It’s okay. That wasn’t helping much, no matter how hard I practice. You don’t have to … I wasn’t expecting you to want to do that anyway.”

Perplexed, Cody almost looked to Rex for some kind of translation; but that was no way to parley with a fellow officer. It puzzled Cody how she could still regard him with stiff awe, and he decided to remind her that he was just flesh and blood, youngish and lusty enough for a lab-grown specimen of humankind. He placed a hand on her lean thigh. “That’s not—I still want that paintjob.” 

She eyed him warily. He didn’t want to feel like a chore, but they’d probably only get Cestus once. So he chanced it. He tried to soften the gory side of his face and stared Tano straight in the eye. “I _really_ want you to fuck yourself on me, and I _really_ want Rex to eat you out as you do.” 

Rex sucked in breath and flushed to the roots of his sandy hair. 

“Shab, did I just make that worse?” Cody asked, eyeing the crotch situation.

Tano snorted. “No, I think Rexster just likes the idea.” She caressed his scalp, and Rex gawped at her like the starcharts of Xim were in her eyes. “And so do I,” she added, turning to Cody. She brushed her knuckles against his scar, tenderly, and Cody swore his dead skin tingled. It was a strangely intimate gesture compared to all the clumsy fun they’d been having. Her hand slid down his neck, down his chest, and down further still, until Cody’s cock was jumping to meet her fingers at his navel. 

It was such a small hand. Cool and bony. Tano gripped him tight and just circled the pad of her thumb over his leaky slit. “It won’t look as good on you,” she mumbled.

“What?” he asked with shaky breath.

Slowly, so slowly it took a moment for Cody to cotton on, she pushed away from Rex’s groin with her heels. Her besh still gripped a little on Rex’s dick, but he immediately spotted the vivid blue fading into his brother's light curls. Only a pearl or two of Rex's own spent come was visible on his tip when she pulled off.

“You’re darker,” she said.

“That’s okay. I think it looks best on Rex, too.” Cody plucked Tano into his lap and, not knowing what overcame him, blew a zoochberry into the tempting crease of her lek. She squealed and twisted around in his hold. 

He scooted them to the edge of the cot to seat her on his thighs; each one was nearly as broad as she was. Tano wrapped her ankles around his calves, which he spread wide. She toyed with herself and tickled Rex’s foot, teasing him to move off his shebs. He obeyed, and for a moment Cody wasn’t sure where his stomach had gone when he saw Rex on his knees, his nose buried in Tano’s besh, and felt his brother’s tongue flick his tip. 

Tano slouched against Cody’s chest, her tits pillowed on his forearm. After a minute of utter silence except for Rex’s slurps, as Cody waited for Tano to signal that she was ready, nuzzling his scarred temple into the coolness of her lek, chasing that tingling delight, her arches gained purchase on his calves. Before he could help lift her, Tano had brought herself to hovering. She was high enough for Cody to reach underneath her ass, fist his cock, and hold it primed for her to lower herself down. 

He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t wizard. 

A moan escaped Cody when she eased onto him. She was warm, just as tight as Rex, but all the way down—maybe even tighter the deeper she sank. It was all he could do to draw breath, so fine was the line between pleasure and pain. He shifted his weight further into his spine, tilting himself backwards so she could envelop him fully, and his core quaked. 

This had been worth the wait. Especially since it allowed Rex to suck on his hard balls at the same time. "Oh gods, marry me please," he croaked.

Tano cusped his cheek. "Aww, he's gone all romantic, Rex. I think we've broken him."

"You're welcome to accept," came Rex's voice between their legs, where he was aggressively suckling Cody's sack and licking at Tano's folds. "I've never given him that satisfaction." 

Rex tongued into her slit alongside Cody, wriggling with intent into the vacuum between shaft and cervix. A sharp, shallow pain stung Cody's thighs as Tano’s nails dug in. 

Cody couldn't word; he just planted his heels and thrust—less so into Tano, whose besh didn’t have much give, but into Rex’s chin. He rolled up to rest his jaw on Tano's shoulder. Cupping her breast and rolling the pert nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he watched Rex go to town, her blue sauce apparent on his nose as he drank her down, bicep curling as he pumped himself. Cody’s heart sputtered at sight. 

He wondered at that—wondered if this wasn’t some hack to his programming, to see his brother serve a Jedi in such a carnal, unorthodox fashion. Naturally, and without institutionalized artifice. Not that he didn’t appreciate a little lightsaber action to a problem, but sometimes Cody imagined how things might have been different if the Jedi had declined command: if they had left the warmaking to the purpose-built wargamers, and had little more to do than listen to the troubles of provincial rulers, administer rites to the dead, visit the wounded, and commune with the Force generally on their behalf. It’d be a considerably less messy TOE and a helluva lot more fun. 

_And a shorter war,_ he added quietly. Hopefully too quiet for Tano to hear. She hadn't gotten much of a say, either.

"You spill fuckin' beautifully, commander," he found himself saying instead. "How'd you like me and Rexster mixed up inside you?" Tano swore something, and pressed harder on Cody's legs. He carried on. "Leaking out between your thighs when you finger yourself later, yeah?"

"Not if I suck it out first," mumbled Rex, the words fluttering against Cody's soggy root. 

Just as Cody was thinking he could do this all day, the thought of Rex slurping down his own backwash, and the pressure surrounding and building in his cock, grew too intense to ignore. Tano's purrs, broken by the occasional mewl, rumbled into his lungs. Cody's balls clenched inside Rex’s mouth. No mindfulness exercises or creepy longneck frown would throw him off now. Even his head felt thick and fuzzy, like he wasn’t alone in his own skull. 

The sucking was so much. Too much. His hips bucked. He surged into Tano’s heat with a moan, feeling his come squeezed from him, and dropped backwards in a tremble.

He fell further than expected, though, and gravity made itself known as someone— _Tano?_ —swore a blood curse on a Hutt matriarch. 

The din of clattering metal sent Cody’s adrenaline through the roof. 

So the bomb line had been moved. In the wrong direction. It was raining Sep shells. 

He was flat on his back, his head wedged against a wall, his conscious mind skidding on top of the euphoria. He tried to scramble Tano off him. “Commander Tano, for fuck’s sake—”

“It wasn’t me!” she yelped, nonsensically. 

“It _definitely_ was,” came Rex’s voice. He sounded fine. Better than fine, for he was chortling. 

Half of Cody’s view was blocked by the wall, but beyond that and Tano’s fat head, the lights were still. The ground wasn’t shaking. He replayed the series of stuttering events that had ended with a crash and Rex in a state of mad glee. 

“Shabbing hells, I thought we’d been hit,” Cody huffed, a cold sweat starting somewhere around his right nut. Damn, he really was _stuck._

“You did knock your head pretty hard,” said Rex. 

Cody relaxed into this ignominious position. “Did you break this bed, Tano?”

“I … I —”

“Yes. And she chucked Yoss’s locker to the floor while she was at it. Nearly flattened me.”

Tano yawped. “That is _such_ sithspit! It just … fell.”

“Of course. It just tripped trying to get away from you.”

“Rex,” Cody said hoarsely, “are you going to be any godsdamned help or just chug oxygen.”

“Sorry vod, I think you’ll find it’s better to wait this out.” 

Being trapped did little to ease Cody’s anxiety; he’d ended one too many hyperreal sims pinned down by a training droid with the sides of the AT-TE caving in, as Fett’s recorded voice catalogued every command error he’d made that had led to him and his platoon dying in a tangle of burning metal when he might have been bringing eternal glory to the Republic. There was nothing for it, however, but to do as Rex said and not give Tano too much grief. This _had_ been his idea. 

While Cody’s penis was slowly pinched till his eyes watered, Rex busied himself righting Yoss’s locker, and honorably refused to comment on its contents as he tried to right those, too. A couple men knocked to enquire if all was well—probably the same uptight lieutenants from the showers—and Rex politely told them to fuck themselves off to the mess, where they were supposed to be, if they didn’t want to find their meal ration replaced by dryrats for the next week.

“Sorry about this,” Tano murmured above him. “I must’ve cracked the slats.”

“Impressive. But you didn’t crack me or Rex. So no harm done,” Cody said, quite seriously anxious about his dick now. 

“Not this time. Poor Rex,” she said, cryptically. He'd have to goad Rex about that later. “They kind of warn you about these things. Losing control. Projecting. It hasn’t happened in a while. That was just … _really_ amazing.”

The Generals giving a combined birds-and-banthas briefing was a ghastly image. Cody pushed it aside to bask in the compliment. He gave her a one-armed hug, keeping the movement minimal. “I’m glad you stopped by.”

“Me too.”

“Me third,” said Rex, wearing a shiny new smirk as he bent over their limp bodies. “‘Cause that was my second triple-tap of the day, set up masterfully by Commander Cody, with a beautiful assist from Commander Tano.”

Cody scoffed. “Am I playing for the blue side, now?”

“Shhh, we won’t tell your little sunshine squad,” Tano giggled. “Help me up, Rex. Cody’s ready for his deece back, I think.”

The casual small talk had distracted Cody from the discomfort in his crotch, and sure enough, Tano was able to wiggle free, though Cody winced and grit his teeth all the while. Rex lent a hand and hauled Cody out of the collapsed bedframe. Without pausing to examine what interesting color his tender sheath might be, Cody carefully slipped his briefs on; if Rex hadn’t yet sustained any lasting damage, Cody figured he’d be frotting fit in a day or two. All told, it'd been worth it. 

“Tano, you’d better exit through the window,” Cody said, stepping into his blacks. 

“ _Ugh,_ but it’s chowtime! No one will be around.” 

“Humor me and maybe we'll do this again sometime.”

“Fine," she grumbled—then, turning to Rex, "What're you going to tell Yoss?”

“I’ll say I had a nightmare, and if he squeaks, he’ll have one too.”

Cody wasn’t sure how efficacious that line would be, and was confirmed wholly in his doubt an hour later, when Captain Yoss pinged into Cody’s ‘pad via a FWD from CT-7567:

_SITREP  
Size: three  
Activity: dismounted, joint egress from Block 5, two by front, one by rear window  
Location: half-klik to my sorry six  
Uniform: unaf/GAR blacks/Torrent LC kit  
Time: ingress unk, egress 1808  
Equipment: n/a, suspect unloaded and discharged in barracks_

Contrary to Rex’s assertion, Cody did actually know what a requisition form looked like. He intercepted one from Yoss’s QM to add six boxes of cheffa cakes with the General's authorization code, probably cleaning the waystation out of that particular processed delicacy. As if Procurement wouldn’t balance the books three months later by sending the 501st even more threadbare canvas before their next posting. Which would probably be Hoth. 

But they were all in this business of pleasant illusion together. At least until that bomb line got moved.


End file.
